“But this isn’t historically accurate!” protests Meredith’s Betty (Maxine Peake) as Calvin’s pugnacious Margaret Thatcher (Seiriol Davies) strides into the chamber of the House of Commons, handbag primed for confrontation. Historical accuracy is not the first concern of the six-strong Dewsbury Players. Their main aim is to impress the BBC’s head of regional arts outreach with the musical they’re writing in celebration of a local heroine, “epitome of the British spirit”, the first female speaker, Betty Boothroyd. If they can persuade the representative of the corporation that they are low-income, manual labourers, rather than retailers, a therapist, dance teacher, and put-upon grandmother, they might be in with a chance of subsidy and exposure.
In a neon-lit village hall with a faulty tea urn (a shiveringly evocative combination of set and lighting by James Cotterill and Malcolm Rippeth respectively), members of the troupe take turns to present their individual interpretations of periods in Betty’s life (nothing too arty: “This is Dewsbury, not Leeds!”). This framing device allows the creators of Betty! A Sort of Musical – Peake (book) and Davies (book, lyrics and music) – to play riffs on theatre, film and music genres. We travel from a depression-era, working-class childhood (cue “Hovis bread advert music”) via Tiller Girls’ kick-lines and sequins (Betty was a hoofer), through moody jazz, and trenchcoat 60s spy encounters to the spectacular ballad/opera/rock Boothroyd Rhapsody showdown with Thatcher (terrific live music under Sarah Dyer). The battle of the politicians in the house is mirrored by the battle in the village hall between Peake’s Meredith and Davies’s Calvin for control of the players; elsewhere in the group, a dynamic-shattering love story is blossoming.
The result is fitfully funny; more end-of-pier review/sitcom pilot mashup than satisfying musical. In spite of strong performances (some off-key singing aside), the village hall characters and relationships are semaphored rather than developed. With too many scenes feeling like overstretched sketches, it seems that director/dramaturg Sarah Frankcom may have forgotten Betty’s catchline: “Right, time’s up!”
